


Reaching New Emotional Heights

by mitochondriencocktail



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: First Dates, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, New York AU, This is like one of those mumblecore romcoms ok just picture that atmosphere, fake date, this is self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 11:36:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11126241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitochondriencocktail/pseuds/mitochondriencocktail
Summary: In which Richard doesn't know why he can't ever land a second date, and Jared offers to help him by taking him on a Fake Date. The Fake Date isn't very fake though to Richard. This is incredibly saccharine and self-indulgent, and I refuse to apologize because sometimes you just need an espresso shot of fluff for the soul.





	Reaching New Emotional Heights

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, y'all. Me again. This was written in a flurry of less than 24hrs, so please pardon any errors and feel free to point them out. I'm tired of looking at this, but it was fun to write. Takes place in Brooklyn because I traipsed around there enough and the gentrification is awful, but the social scene is objectively cute. It's terrible and I feel guilty for enjoying it, but that's a separate issue for a separate day.
> 
> Also the restaurant is a real place! I haven't been there because I'm a broke ass college student, but I googled a bunch of places that looked cute.
> 
> Any and all comments are appreciated, and, to put it bluntly, what fuel me to keep writing fic lmao
> 
> Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoy!

It was official— Richard Hendricks had been stood up a total of six times in the past two months. The first couple he’d brushed off as flukes, especially considering they were sprinkled in between other second dates that he’d actually managed to land, but the proof was in the pudding (and Richard hated pudding, so that was a double slap to the face); he was undateable after the first date. It was a slow kind of dawning, like pouring the rest of the juice into a cup, and realizing that your cup isn’t actually large enough to accommodate. His cup runneth over, but only in failure.

“I just don’t get it, Jared,” he said, pacing the confines of his tiny Brooklyn apartment. It’d been two years since he’d relocated from Tulsa, but the sense of claustrophobia never seemed to escape him. New York was a beautiful beast in its own way, but when Richard needed space, it was often a hard thing to come by. 

Sat on his couch was Jared Dunn, tall and lanky in an almost cartoonish way, but unerring in his placement in Richard’s apartment. Jared had become a hallmate turned friend after a particularly terrible evening left Richard locked out of his own apartment, and Jared graciously let him stay a couple days until their landlord reappeared from what Richard assumed were the depths of Hell. 

Jared should’ve made the space feel smaller than it already is, but failed to do so. If anything, he fit right in along with the tattered green sofa and chipped coffee table.

“Richard—”

“Six times!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “They meet me  _ once _ in person, and I manage to put them off.” Richard fished his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it, and scrolled through the list of Tinder matches he’d failed spectacularly at. “Do you see this?” He thrust the phone at Jared and continued pacing. “And I can’t— it’s not like I can meet people at work, you know? There’s only dudes there, and I’m not— that’s not the point.” He frowned, took a deep breath. His anxiety was spiking again.

Jared waited a beat before speaking, “Richard… first and foremost, these people are losing out on someone great.” At this, Richard peeked up. Jared was speaking in that earnest tone of his, the same one he used when he delighted in passing dogs or gluten free waffles topped with fresh strawberries.

“I, Jared…”

“No, no, let me finish.”

Richard bit his lip. Jared was determined, it seemed. It was rare that he interrupted Richard.

“And, secondly, it’s not your personality at all, don’t you see? You’re more than capable of attaining a first date, but, perhaps, you lack proper date decorum— not through your own fault— but through simply a lack of attention to that area of your life because you were busy with your coding, your career.”

“So… you’re saying I should learn how to go on a date?” Richard crossed his arms. “How,” he scoffed, “ _ Yahoo Answers? Wikihow? _ ” A bubble of self-conscious laughter escaped his mouth. Jared remained constant, hands clasped together in his lap, gazing adoringly up at Richard.

“Well, perhaps, I could show you.”

“What, like— like a… powerpoint of proper ‘date etiquette?’” Richard scoffed.

“No, I was thinking more along the lines of, well, a ‘practice date.’ A fake date of sorts wherein I’ll show you what I personally do when I’m on a date.”

“When was the last time you were on a date?” Richard found himself asking this unbidden, a strange spike of something unnameable flickering in his chest. It was there and gone in a flash, a momentary disorientation. Even Jared himself looked briefly stunned.

“Not for the past few months, maybe even half a year, I’ll admit, but— if I may indulge in a moment of ego— I believe I have a tangible track record of experience.”

Richard swallowed. Thoughts of Jared wooing with whimsy and romance flashed through his head. What type of date was he? Did he bring flowers? Win oversized teddy bears? Treat his dates to only the finest wines as he spoke French (or, more likely, German) to them? An image of Jared dressed to the nines in a well-tailored suit brought a touch of heat to Richard’s ears.

“You’re really confident that you know your stuff?”

“Richard, you know I’m rarely a creature of self-indulgence. One of my stepmothers told me that was the quickest way to earn yourself a ticket to Hell, and I suppose it stuck,” he chuckled, eyes crinkling with strange fondness for the frankly terrible sounding memory.

“She what— I, okay, nevermind,” Richard shook his head. He jammed his hands into his pockets. “Alright, fine. Let’s uh…” he stared down hard at the carpet. “...Go… on a… fake date.”

Jared made a noise of excitement, bouncing slightly in his seat on the couch. “Oh, wonderful! I didn’t realized how much I’ve missed the exuberant rush of the dating scene.”

“Fake dating scene,” Richard awkwardly coughed. “Fake date.”

“Right, right,” Jared said, still seemingly beside himself with glee. Richard could hardly imagine this oversized puppy of a man suavely winning the hearts of any woman or man or, well, whoever it was that Jared had gone on all these dates with. He was a bit of a mystery like that. Jared was… well, he was Jared; earnest, wide-eyed, loyal to a fault, and frankly one of the few people who was milestones ahead of Richard in terms of weirdness. 

But, as he listened to Jared eagerly babble out something about dinner (“Nothing too fancy, don’t worry. I know how those places are off-putting to you, but wear something nice.”), Richard supposed he could see the charm in a man like him. That is, if he were attracted to men. He straightened himself up at the errant thought.

Jared stood and fixed up Richard’s couch cushions, and then turned to face him at an impossibly close distance. Richard’s hands were suddenly being gripped gently. “I’ll pick you up at seven o’clock, alright?” It was as if a switch had been flipped, and the intensity of those blue eyes were trained solely on Richard, but they were softer. Vulnerable. The Jared standing before him now was smirking playfully, and he seemed impossibly taller, more confident.

“I— uh. Sure. Yes,” Richard babbled. His senses had gone into overdrive, and was that a hint of aftershave he was picking up from Jared? He stood, frozen, as Jared let himself out with a final cheery wave goodbye. 

The door shut behind him and left Richard with the sensation that he’d made a terrible mistake.

 

“ _ ‘Wear something nice,’ _ ” Richard repeated to himself over and over, standing in his bathroom. He tugged at the button down and then frowned. “This is stupid,” he huffed. He tore the shirt off and paced around his bedroom. Clothes were strewn across his bed and floor and single dresser. Nothing seemed to fit right. 

Suddenly his favorite sweaters were too lumpy on him, his button downs making him look like shoddily made marionette dolls, and all his hoodies were simply out of the question. Not only were they not  _ nice _ enough, but they made him look like a struggling grad student on the lookout for some loose instant ramen. A glance at the clock told him he had only fifteen minutes left before Jared would ‘pick him up.’ 

After Jared had left earlier, Richard spent most of the afternoon in a daze until, around five o’clock, he’d jolted to life. Suddenly he was jumping in the shower, running contemplative fingers over his stubble before leaving it, comparing deodorant scents— and throwing his entire wardrobe around his room.

“Oh, fuck it,” Richard huffed. This was just Jared, he told himself. Jared who’d hung out with a number of times on any given day at any given time. This was nothing new. He snatched a navy pullover, a pair of grey jeans, and doused himself in what was probably too much cologne. And then, he sat. He sat in quiet contemplation on the couch as he waited the remaining thirteen minutes until seven o’clock. 

Richard felt absolutely ridiculous. 

His nerves had spiked and he was pretty sure there was a ringing in his left ear. No date— fake or otherwise— before had made him so nervous. But there was something else there. An eagerness. A certain curiosity that he hadn’t known was embedded in the back of his mind. 

Jared was taking him out on a date. A fake date. Everything was just an act, a demonstration of how Richard could and should act to find himself a woman of his own. Richard drummed his fingers against his thigh in anticipation. A knock startled him.

“Coming,” he called. He smacked himself in the forehead for saying that. He never addressed door knocking with, ‘Coming.’ That was just stupid. Richard rolled his eyes at himself as he unlocked the door and swung it open. Jared stood before him, paradoxically dressed down, but also dressed up. His usual tucked in shirt and khakis had been traded in for a red and blue plaid button up, tight-fitting dark wash jeans, and sensible brown leather shoes.

“Oh, Richard, you look lovely,” he beamed. A hand reached out and pushed some stray curls away from Richard’s eyes. “I hope I’m not too early. I was admittedly a touch eager.”

“No, no, you’re fine. I was just, uh, sitting.”

Jared blinked. “Sitting?”

“You know what, nevermind, let’s, uh, you look really nice too,” he stammered. “Let’s get going, shall we?” 

“That sounds wonderful,” Jared said. He extended a hand to Richard who stared at it.

“Is that— am I supposed to hold my date’s hand right away?”

Jared shrugged. “If you’d like, unless you or them have explicit issues with personal space, in which case I’d recommend against it. Do you, um… I can—” Jared faltered briefly, a split second of panic. Richard latched immediately onto Jared’s hand to smother the panic.

“No, no, it’s fine. Just, uh, curious. Taking notes,” he said, tapping his head. 

“Great,” Jared sighed, smiling down at Richard. His eyes softened, a wistful look creeping into them. With a large breath, Jared steadied himself and stood up straighter. They started walking, taking the short flight of stairs down and outside into the warm Brooklyn air. “I think you’ll like where we’re going.” Soft city sirens echoed around them, mingling with the bustlings of evening activity in a whirlwind of gentle nighttime atmosphere. 

Couples passed them by, and Richard couldn’t help but study each one; girls with pin-straight hair and flowing blouses, men in tight white t-shirts with stupid facial hair. They all reeked of youthful gentrification, but Richard himself wasn’t exactly guilt free on that matter. Couples of all sorts were paired together though once he looked more closely; young women giggling together, and coupled up men sharing drinks.

Brooklyn, Flatbush no less, was a liberal area, but there was still a certain self-consciousness that Richard felt shrouded in. He was holding onto another _guy’s_ _hand._ But as they strolled underneath strings of seasonally inappropriate Christmas lights, passing bars and restaurants packed with happy people, Richard found himself relaxing— until he became painfully self-aware again.

In a moment of sheer contradiction, Richard held on tighter to Jared and jumped into a conversation about embarrassing yearbook photos. 

(“Small talk can be fun,” Jared said. “It’s the foundation for understanding your date in greater depth.”)

Apparently Jared had been absent for his sixth grade picture day due to one of his stepfathers pawning Jared’s bike for extra booze money, but his seventh grade photo was a blast. Richard did a doubletake to make sure he’d heard right, but then hesitantly offered an anecdote of his own. In ninth grade he’d sneezed mid-snapshot, and the company had used that one. Richard had been mortified.

“I’m sure you still looked adorable,” Jared cooed. “There’s nothing more candid than sneezing during a photo,” he teased. “It’s a raw performance of the soul.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what it was,” Richard huffed, a small laugh of satisfaction at the attention. “Thirteen year old Richard was a burgeoning artistic genius.”

“Well, maybe not an artistic genius, but you  _ are _ a genius,” Jared said.

“I— uh… Thanks,” Richard smiled. He was grateful they were walking and not making eye contact, because he was fairly fearful of what his expression might’ve been showing— especially when he, himself, wasn’t entirely certain what it was he was feeling. “So you just compliment your date a bunch, huh? Is that the secret?” he laughed.

“Only if I mean it,” Jared instructed. “Lying gets you nowhere. No relationship can be built upon false flatteries or conjecture.”

“So… when you say I’m a genius…” Richard hazarded.

“Of course I mean it, Richard,” Jared exclaimed. He stopped mid-stride to look down at Richard with those terribly earnest blue eyes. He looked almost hurt that Richard would ever think otherwise.

Richard’s face grew warm, fighting hard not to smile but failing miserably. He was blushing. He was fucking blushing while holding onto Jared’s stupid, noodly arm on their ridiculous Fake Date. “Thanks, Jared. You’re— uh. Tall.”

_ Tall. _

Richard had just pointed out an obvious facet of Jared’s personal appearance. He’d meant it as a compliment, as a means of expressing fondness and appreciation of Jared’s kindness, his sentimentality, his openness and willingness to help Richard. Instead all Richard’s brain could conjure up was  _ Tall. _

No wonder he couldn’t ever land a second date.

But maybe Jared knew what he meant because he was grinning widely at Richard, practically vibrating before making a noise Richard could only describe as ‘giggling.’ 

“Thank you, Richard.” He sounded like he meant it, and Richard wasn’t sure what to do with that bit of information. But he closed his eyes, slowly, taking a mental snapshot of Jared’s face as he pulled them into walking again, and pocketed the moment for safekeeping. 

 

The restaurant they arrived at was a tiny hole in the wall sort of place, exposed brick matched with unvarnished wood to give it a warm, rustic sort of feel. A tiny patio was attached to the side with thematically matching barrels of overflowing purple flowers that Richard thought were maybe petunias. He wasn’t exactly well read on flowers, but he did admire them. 

Savory scents and flavors wafted out of the restaurant, and Jared stopped them, disentangling his hand from Richard’s. He motioned ahead for Richard to step through the open door first. Proper date etiquette, no doubt.

Richard flexed his hand a few times, getting used to the feel of his own hand detached from Jared’s, and then walked through. 

“It’s more of a wine bar than a proper restaurant, I apologize, but their Spring Fettucine is to die for,” Jared said, bringing a hand to his chest in a rare dramatic display of passion. Richard thought his enthusiasm was endearing.

Perhaps it was the shelter of being indoors now mixed with the safe allure of dimmed lights, but Richard truly began to relax. He was even excited now. Nobody paid them any mind as they settled as a small round table just large enough for two. Richard could easily imagine this place being packed on a Friday, and even on a Wednesday it was doing pretty well. The wine seemed to be flowing and people’s rosy-cheeked chatterings comfortably filled the room.

They each ordered a bottle of beer ( _ Czechvar _ for Richard,  _ Veltins _ for Jared), placed orders for food, and waited.

“So…” Richard ventured. He absently watched as the bartender behind Jared expertly mixed drinks, and picked at the label on his bottle of beer. “How… uh. I still don’t get it.”

“Get what?” Jared asked. His elbows were on the table, his posture relaxed but attentive. He cocked his head.

“What makes a good date.”

“Well, I’m showing you. Or at least trying to.” His expression fell. “Is it not satisfactory—”

“No, it is, but I just—” Richard scrunched his face up, and then took a sip of his beer. “I don’t get how you’re doing it. It all seems so… natural. I can’t even pick up what you’re doing,” Richard laughed. “But… I’m…” he glanced away from Jared’s gaze. “Having fun,” he admitted. It’d only been ten minutes since they’d gotten here, and Richard’s beer label was already a shredded mess on their table.

“I’m glad,” Jared said. He continued to stare intently at Richard, a subdued sort of heat behind his gaze like the first vestiges of steam from a kettle on the verge of boiling.

“You’re so effortless about it though, like you’re not even trying.”

“When you’re on a date with someone you’re genuinely interested in, you shouldn’t have to try. It should just flow,” Jared said in a dreamy voice.

“Genuinely interested in?” Richard asked. His heart skipped a beat.

Jared froze mid-sip, then set his bottle down. “That is to say, your date is an interesting subject. You should find them captivating, or at least relatable. Awkward pauses are natural and normal, but if you find your entire conversation to be comprised of them, then that’s perhaps a red flag,” he babbled. A beat of silence passed and Jared took an uncharacteristically large swig of his drink. Richard followed suit.

Something wonderfully dangerous and terrifying lay on the other side of that beat of silence, and he was nowhere near ready to tackle whatever it was— at least not while still stone-cold sober. 

 

He blamed it on the one beer he had on an empty stomach, which was ridiculous, but Richard found himself blurting out, “You’re a good person,” in between a mouthful of his pulled pork sandwich. It came hurtling out of the atmosphere like a speeding comet, and for a brief moment Richard thought that he’d just destroyed an entire town with its impact. 

It was entirely unprompted, an unbidden thought cast out in a lull after Jared had just shared an entertaining story about his elderly friend Gloria. He’d been babysitting her granddaughter last weekend while Gloria went on an impromptu road trip with her fellow seniors to Turning Stone Casinos. 

But then Jared smiled, cast his eyes downward in a sweetly embarrassed fashion, and said, “See, you’ll be fine on a real second date, Richard.” He pushed the fettuccini on his plate around and forked up a snap pea. 

And, Richard would continue to blame the one light beer, but in that moment, the Big Terrifying Thought had begun to peek its head up over the horizon; Jared framed by the warm glow of bar lights, a rush of euphoria, his endearingly large ears flushed just enough to be visible. Amid the whispers of loose conversation encircling them, Richard overheard, “And it turns out, I was just sabotaging myself the entire time.”

_ ‘Oh fuck,’ _ he thought.

He stuffed his mouth full with more pulled pork.

 

It’d been an uphill battle with Jared to let Richard pay for at  _ least _ the beers, but it was valiantly fought by both parties.

(“Just let me pay for my own meal at least, Jared,” he’d argued.

“No, you’re my date.”

“If this is second date etiquette, I’m going to be broke at this rate.”

“Just let me treat you,” Jared laughed.

Richard acquiesced.)

The mood was relaxed enough by now where Richard felt comfortable reaching for Jared’s hand on the way out. They’d laughed and ate and drank, and it was unlike any date— fake or otherwise— that Richard had ever been on. He was undeniably giddy as he pulled Jared down the street and around crowds of people.

“I just don’t get why anybody would use spaces over tabs,” he huffed. “Dinesh and Gilfoyle think I’m being neurotic, and maybe I am, but at least I’m neurotic in a way that’s right.”

Jared softly laughed. “It is a hot topic in the coding community, isn’t it?”

“You’re not agreeing with me,” Richard laughed. “You’re staying neutral.”

“I—”

“No, no, that’s the smart answer, probably.” Richard let the topic dwindle. He’d always been a stickler for it, and there was no need to bog down a perfectly nice evening with his babbling.

“Tabs do make more sense, I suppose,” Jared confessed halfway down the next block. Richard was beaming.

“Right? It’s way more efficient, and saves everybody time and trouble,” he exploded, launching into an enthusiastic ramble that carried them the rest of the walk home.

 

Richard was never great at goodbyes of any sort. They’d always felt awkward, stilted and unnatural; like they couldn’t carry the verisimilitude of his weighty thoughts. Even after a fine evening of fake dating with Jared, he found himself standing awkwardly in front of his own door. Should he invite him in? Were they still on the fake date? What did Richard even want to do? Maybe he should just hug him, go to bed, and act like nothing at all happened tomorrow.

Jared leaned against the doorframe, hands in his pockets. He was biting his lip. “Did this help at all, Richard?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” he answered, nodding. He stuffed his own hands in his pockets.

“I’m glad. You’re a fine date. You just need to relax, and the right person will notice what a catch you are.” 

“Thanks, Jared.” He swallowed nervously, tension thick between them. Or was Richard just imagining it? He couldn’t blame the beer anymore, that would just be pathetic even for him. His head spun. Jared continued to stare down at him, a touch of something hopeful in his expression, but when it was clear that Richard wasn’t going to move, he straightened up.

“Have a nice night, Richard.” He nodded.

“Yeah, you too, Jared.” Jared started walking down the hall to his own door, Richard watching him as a strange feeling punched him in the gut. “Hey, Jared,” he called. Jared turned around, full attention on Richard just like it always was.

“Everything okay, Richard?”

“You’re tall.”

Jared laughed, unselfconscious and wonderful and loud. “Thank you,” he said, painfully earnest, slipping into his apartment and leaving Richard alone.

 

Once inside, Richard slipped off his pullover, stripped out of his jeans, and washed up. He was exhausted, but his mind wouldn’t quiet down. It thrummed and hummed like jar full of lightening bugs as he laid in bed, hands folded neatly on his stomach like a little boy waiting for his mom to tuck him in. 

She, of course, never came, considering Richard was twenty-six and lived alone. 

So he was left alone with his slowly distilling thoughts. The vapours and fumes closed in on him and flashes of Jared blinked through his mind; Jared from tonight, Jared from earlier today, Jared from last week when he’d come over after a long day and they’d watched some new nature documentary he’d been excitedly telling Richard about.

Was that a date? Could that have been one? What really was a date, when you got down to the nitty-gritty of it? Suddenly Richard’s entire world had been thrown off kilter.

“Fuck,” he groaned into his pillow in frustration, punching it afterwards for good measure. “Ow,” he mumbled. 

He’d pulled a muscle.

 

It took him two full days of stewing in his apartment and avoiding Jared to muster up the courage. Richard’s web browser history had been filled with  _ Wikihow  _ articles ranging from “How to Know if You Are Gay” to “How to Love Being Bisexual” to “Am I Dating My Friend?” There was also a brief dip into weirder and funnier articles like “Is My Horse an Emo?” because how could he resist that. 

And then he’d wiped his browser history. Twice. For good measure.

He still felt like an idiot, though. A stupidly giddy and nervous idiot who found himself knocking on Jared’s door Friday night.

“Richard? Is everything alright?” he asked upon opening his door. “I thought you’d be out hitting the dating scene on a Friday night,” he teased. He was dressed in his usual light blue button down and khakis, no doubt having gotten back from work late. Richard was in his own comfortable red hoodie already.

“I… uh.” Stumbling wasn’t part of his plan. “Yeah. I was actually wondering if… you’d… uh. You know what? Do you, uh, do you wanna grab dinner?” He motioned over his shoulder with his thumb. “Takeout or something, and— and then watch a movie at my place or something? My treat.”

Jared was grabbing his keys and wallet in an instant. Richard leaned against his doorframe while waiting, secretly smug with satisfaction— which only lasted until he slipped off the doorframe and lost his balance. 

Thankfully Jared didn’t see this.

 

They stuck on  _ Ocean’s Eleven  _ and cracked open their containers of pad thai, Richard opting for a fork while Jared went with chopsticks for the “authenticity.” It was close to nine o’clock, so Richard decided to pour them glasses of red wine and even attempted to light some candles before he remembered that strongly scented things bother Jared, so he quietly slipped the matches back in the drawer. Candles were stupid, anyways. 

Sitting, however, proved to be more of a challenge for Richard than he’d anticipated. Should he make his intentions obvious and sit shoulder to shoulder, or would Jared be put off by that? If he sat too far, then Jared would possibly misread his intentions entirely and think Richard was just having him over as a friend— which, he  _ was _ a friend. God, why was this all so fucking complicated.

Richard decided on a half-foot distance from Jared. Close enough to bump shoulders, but far enough to give him his space. It was all thrown out the window though when Jared got up to refill their wine glasses and sat back down right next to Richard. 

 

Richard sighed halfway through the documentary. He’d only been half paying attention to the panthers on screen.

“Everything alright?”

Richard set down his pad thai container. He’d had enough of his own pussyfooting. It was now or never, the final countdown, other cliches that came straight from 80s movies. “Can I… try something?”

Jared gave him a quizzical look, then nodded. Richard brought a shaking hand up to Jared’s face and cupped his cheek. “Richard…”

“Can I kiss you?” he blurted out. 

Jared’s only answer was to kiss him first; a quick press of soft lips against Richard’s own chapped ones. Richard inhaled sharply and a blooming heat unfurled in his chest as he let out a small, “Oh,” in pleasant surprise. “Oh fuck,” he said, taking Jared’s pad thai and setting it on the coffee table next to his before pulling him in for another kiss. Laughter spilled out between the pair, and Richard pulled Jared down on top of him, his arms around his neck.

“I’m sorry, I got ahead of myself,” Jared said against Richard’s jawline, chiding himself.

“No, no, you were definitely on the right page. It just took me a while to catch up, and… uh. It still might take a little while.”

“All the time you need.” He pressed more kisses across Richard’s face, eliciting giggles from both of them, before he buried his face in the crook of Richard’s neck. “Can I try something crazy now?”

“Of course,” Richard said. He carded fingers through Jared’s hair, messing it up. It was far more amusing to him when it flopped around.

“I love you, Richard.”

“I—”

“You don’t have to say it, not yet, but I just… wanted you to know.” He remained frozen against Richard, not looking up.

Richard swallowed. His head spun and his heart raced and Jared was so warm against him. Love was a big word, a word that never came easily to Richard, and it wasn’t as if he couldn’t picture himself loving Jared one day with a capital ‘L,’ but these things had always taken Richard a little longer than most. So he settled for what he could muster up earnestly in the moment.

“You’re tall,” he huffed.

Jared laughed, melting against Richard. The tension had broken and he looked up, understanding clear in his eyes.

“Thank you, Richard.”


End file.
